


with your head between my thighs

by owenwilsonvevo



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Kink Exploration, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owenwilsonvevo/pseuds/owenwilsonvevo
Summary: “Been wanting to get under this skirt all day,” Joe says, running his finger across Ben’s thigh, just under the hem. “May I?”He tugs gently at the bottom of the skirt as he asks. Ben says, a bit breathless, “since you asked so nicely.”





	with your head between my thighs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inayas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inayas/gifts).



> ................sorry about this (I’m actually not sorry about this)

It only took two and a half hours in hair and makeup to make Ben the picture of pouty, pretty school girl. His skirt is indecently short, his wig is secured with so many pins that he almost isn’t looking forward to taking it off. His makeup is heavy, mascara and clumps of false lashes and sticky, sparkly lipgloss. His tights are thin and his socks are pulled up to his knees. 

He looks pretty. He knows he looks pretty. After an entire day of filming he’s a little flush and his shirt’s rumpled, untucked on one side from the hem of his skirt, but he still looks so pretty. He’s really good at the coy, coquettish thing, too. He sways his hips and bats his eyelashes and pouts sticky, sparkly lips. After they’d stopped rolling and called it a night, he’d lingered on set for a few more minutes, posing for Instagram pictures, flirting a bit with the crew. When he finally sways off set, he’s sweating beneath the layers of foundation. There’s only a few other people still loitering around, and one of them, a key grip, whistles at Ben as he passes. 

Ben winks at him. It had been a long day of filming after an even longer morning in hair and makeup. His makeup had taken the longest, and Gwil and Joe and Rami had all filtered in and out of the room in just a fraction of the time. He isn’t an impatient person, necessarily, but after the first hour he’d started having a bit of trouble sitting still. It was worth it, though, all the time he’d spent under a makeup brush, all of the pins in his hair, the stern talking to he’d gotten after accidentally tearing three separate pairs of tights just trying to pull them on. All eyes had been on him since the moment he’d swayed onto set, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make something white hot flicker to life in his stomach.

He can feel the eyes of the key grip on him until he rounds the corner. The room they’re using as a dressing room, the room where all of Ben’s clothes are waiting for him is essentially a large storage closet. There’s a couple of couches, a single mannequin, and racks and stands and shelves of clothing. It’s around a couple corners and down a short hallway and when Ben nudges open the door, the room is nearly empty. Only Joe’s still settled on one of the couches, his arm around the back of it, one of his legs folded beneath him. Ben knew he’d be there, waiting for him, but he still can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, glossy. “Hey, buddy.” 

Joe looks up from the screen of his phone as Ben closes the door behind him. “Took you long enough,” he says. His hair is something of a mess, sticking up in a lot of different directions, and he tosses his phone down next to him in favour of running his fingers through it. He’s wearing something that looks suspiciously like a pair of velour track pants, and his t-shirt is baby blue. For some reason, it says _I ♡ IOWA_. 

“I guess I just take my job more seriously than you do,” Ben says. He sits on the arm of the couch, just out of Joe’s reach. Joe makes an indignant noise, but his eyes are dark, trained on the hem of his skirt. Ben crosses his legs, and the fabric rides up higher as he looks Joe up and down. 

It’s a weird look, velour joggers and a thin, vintage looking t-shirt, but the fabric is tight around Joe’s arms, his shoulders, and his pupils are blown wide. He’d been looking at Ben like that since he’d walked on to set, intense and hungry. Ben had done his part to pretend like he hadn’t noticed, had draped himself over furniture and flirted with the crew and pretended like Joe’s eyes on him hadn’t made him feel hot all over. They had, though. They are. They do. 

It’s still really new, this thing between them. It’s exciting and a little bit terrifying, so new that neither of them quite know how to ask for yet. They do this awkward dance every time; they’ll flirt and they’ll tease until one of them gets worked up enough to admit that they want it. And Ben wants it. He’s wanted it since he’d pulled the skirt up over his hips, since he’d caught the first glimpse of his reflection in it. It’s a bit too short on him — it sits just barely under the swell of his arse, and his thighs are a bit too thick for him to properly pull off the lean school girl thing. But he still feels obscene, his heart beating quicker in his chest every time the fabric brushes against his thighs. He knows Joe wants it, too, maybe even more than Ben does. He’d been staring at him in that same, filthy way since the moment he’d laid eyes on him.

Ben wonders, for a moment, what he’d been thinking about while he’d been waiting here for him. Had he been getting impatient? Had he been staring blankly at the screen, thinking of Ben, wishing he’d hurry up so he could get his hands on him? 

Ben cocks his head, watching Joe stare down the line of his skirt. He pretends to smooth it out with one hand, pulling it up higher as he asks, “what the hell are you wearing?” 

It takes Joe a second to hear him, and when he does, he makes a scoff of a sound, lifting his head to look at him properly. “Me?” He asks. 

Ben nods and reaches out to pluck the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t really heart Iowa.” 

“Of course I do,” he says, indignant. “I heart the whole Midwest.” 

“That sounds like maybe it’s not true,” Ben says.

“Are you accusing me of being a fake fan? Of _Iowa_?” He asks. He gaze flickers towards the skirt again as he scoffs. “I don’t need to take this from you. You don’t get to insult me while you look like a budget Roger Taylor.” 

Ben tilts his head again. He makes a show of parting his lips just slightly. “You don’t like the skirt?” He asks. 

“Sorry, man,” Joe says, heaving his shoulders. “It’s just not doing it for me. My expectations were too high, I think.”

“I get it,” Ben says, uncrossing his legs. 

“It’s nothing personal,” he continues. “You just had some big shoes to fill.” 

“I get it,” Ben says again. “It’s the thighs, right?” 

Joe nods. “It’s the thighs,” he agrees, but even as he says it he looks down at them, barely hidden by the canvas of his skirt. “They kinda ruin the illusion. I’m a little disappointed, to be honest.” 

“You’re right,” Ben agrees. He pushes his hair back from his shoulder. “This is embarrassing. I should change.” 

He moves to lift himself from the arm of the couch, but Joe moves quicker than Ben’s ever seen Joe move before. He throws his hand out, curls his fingers around Ben’s wrist, keeps him from getting away. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

“Are you sure?” Ben asks. “I could put on something sexier for you.” He turns so he’s facing him, and something about the dark of Joe’s eyes, the dark in the way he’s looking at him makes him feel like there’s fire coursing through his veins. This is still really new, this thing between them, and neither of them are really good at asking for it yet but in that moment Ben wants it so much. “I can get denim overalls,” he offers, “since the Midwest gets you off.” 

“I’m getting a vibe like you think you’re funny,” Joe says, “but you’re not funny.” 

“We both know I’m funny,” Ben says. 

“I don’t know anything,” Joe corrects him. 

Ben shrugs. “I knew that much already.” 

Joe laughs loudly. He stands, freeing Ben’s wrist in favour of settling it on his waist, backing him up against the arm of the couch again. Then he slides his hand across his back, rests it on his ass as he cradles the side of neck with his other hand. “Fuck off.” 

Ben hums, faux agreeable. He settles a hand on Joe’s waist, curling his fingers into his shirt as he finally closes the distance between them. He kisses him and Joe kisses back quickly, feverishly. He presses his fingers into the side of Ben’s throat, into the sensitive space just beneath his ear and Ben’s breath hitches in his chest. 

Joe fits one of his thighs between Ben’s legs and pulls him closer with the hand on his arse. He kisses him in a wild, aggressive sort of way, the way he always kisses him when Ben’s made him wait. He kisses him like he can’t get enough of him, like he’s been waiting to get his mouth on him, like he’d been waiting for him for hours. It’s hard and it’s rough and it sort of makes Ben’s lips tingle as they move against Joe’s. He quickly tangles his other hand in the mess of Joe’s hair, pulling him closer, kissing him harder. 

They kiss fast and hungry and angry. They kiss for so long that Ben starts to feel lightheaded with it. He’s drunk off it, off of Joe’s touch, the press of his his lips, the heat of his hands through his clothing. It’s Joe that pulls away first, but just barely. His lips are slick with Ben’s lipgloss when he says, “sit down.” 

Ben’s been half hard for most of the day and he really doesn’t wanna put any distance between them. But then Joe steps back, so Ben drops down onto the couch, leaning back against the back of it. Joe watches him, pupils blown, lips parted slightly. He doesn’t say anything, and Ben’s about to reach out towards him, to pull him back down to kiss him again when Joe suddenly pushes Ben’s legs apart and drops to his knees between them. 

He presses a kiss to the side of his knee and Ben’s heart suddenly starts to hammer against his rib cage. “Been wanting to get under this skirt all day,” Joe says, running his finger across Ben’s thigh, just under the hem. “May I?”

He tugs gently at the bottom of the skirt as he asks. Ben says, a bit breathless, “since you asked so nicely.” 

The grin Joe flashes him from between his legs is wicked. He tugs at it again, before he ducks his head beneath it, between Ben’s thighs, under the fabric of his skirt. Immediately, he tears a hole in his tights, ripping them open on one side to press biting kisses along the inside of his thigh. 

Ben watches him move beneath the fabric and his heart starts to beat a bit quicker. His breath is hot against the sensitive skin; his skin is rough, his teeth are sharp whenever he bites down on him. He leaves a trail of bites and bruises that Ben can’t see because Joe’s hidden beneath his skirt, moving between his thighs. He bites down again, and Ben makes a low, rasp of a sound. Joe hums against his skin, pleased, before he lifts a hand and rips Ben’s tights open further. He tears the nylon until he can get at the thin cotton of the briefs the wardrobe department had given him. He immediately starts mouthing at the line of his cock through the fabric, and Ben makes another rasp of a sound, a little higher, a little bit more breathless. 

“I’ve been waiting to get my mouth on you,” Joe murmurs, licking over the head through the cotton, making an extremely self satisfied noise when Ben gasps. He does it again before he says, voice low, “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Since you walked onto set in this fucking skirt.” 

“I thought you didn’t like the skirt?” Ben asks, his voice gone a bit pitchy. 

He can feel Joe’s smirk against the inside of his thigh. “You have no idea how much I like the skirt,” he says against the skin. “I couldn’t stop staring at you. You look like a wet dream.” He presses another kiss against the inside of his thigh. “I couldn’t pay attention to save my life. It’s a miracle I managed not to fuck anything up. I couldn’t stop looking at you, couldn’t think about anything but how much I wanted to get my mouth on your cunt.” 

Ben inhales sharply. Joe is a solid weight between his legs, warm and steady, bleeding so much body heat it nearly burns whenever he touches him. Still, something courses suddenly through Ben that’s so cold it makes him shiver. “Say it again,” he says. His voice is so rough it barely sounds like his own. 

He can feel Joe’s teeth against his skin before he says, calm as anything, “say what again? You want me to tell you how much I want to taste your cunt?” 

Ben makes an embarrassing, breathy sound as he drops his head back against the back of the couch. Joe hums into his thigh again, and it’s smug. “Yeah?” He asks. “You like hearing about how how much I want you, baby girl?” Ben only groans, ragged, and Joe shifts beneath his thighs again to drag his tongue up the line of his cock through the fabric of his briefs. “I want you so bad,” he murmurs, and his hot breath against the damp fabric makes Ben shiver again. “Wanna put my mouth on your cunt. Wanna fuck you with my tongue.” He slides his hands up Ben’s thighs, under his skirt, and pushes his legs further apart. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’d eat you out nice and slow, take my time with you. I’d make you so fucking wet for me.” 

His hands stay curled around Ben’s thighs, keeping his legs pinned open. “I’ve been thinking about it since you walked onto set in this thing,” he murmurs. “You were getting so much attention. We started late because the crew had to keep coming out to tell you how beautiful you looked. I kept wondering if it was making you wet.”

Ben groans again. He feels a bit like he’s got a fever, flushed and hot and a bit delirious. He’s drunk with it, with the feeling of Joe’s weight between his legs, the sound of his voice. He’s drunk with it, and feverish with it, and he’s so hard he’s a little lightheaded. He shifts, rocking his hips, searching for some kind of friction, and he’s rewarded with Joe’s fingers tightening around his thighs, keeping him still. 

“I bet it was,” Joe hums, low. “I bet you were so wet. Because you love it, don’t you? You love being told what a pretty girl you are. And you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Ben’s next exhale is slow and shaky. Joe says, “I almost couldn’t wait. You have no idea what you were doing to me, baby girl. Wanted to get on my knees in front of everybody. Wanted to pull your panties down and lick your cunt until you came for me.” 

He pulls back slowly, out from under Ben’s skirt, to look up at Ben as he hooks his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of his ripped tights. “Wanted to show everybody how good I make you feel,” he murmurs. His pupils are blown wide, but his eyes are hooded, a bit of lipgloss still smudged around his mouth. “Wanted to make you come again and again and again.” 

Ben’s breathing is ragged as he reaches down to tangle a hand in Joe’s hair. It’s become even more of a mess, and Ben grips it tightly with one hand as Joe says, “I bet you’d look so pretty for me. I bet you’d make the prettiest sounds with my tongue in your cunt.”

Ben’s breath hitches loudly. There’s a heat in his stomach that’s searing. He feels a bit like he was set on fire from the inside, and the flames are licking up his chest, down his thighs, are starting to make him shake. “Fuck me,” he rasps. 

Joe starts to peel his tights down as if in slow motion. “What’s the magic word?” He looks smug, like he thinks he’s being funny, and normally Ben would have no qualms with telling him to fuck off, to stop teasing, to shut up and fuck him. But Ben’s so hard he’s nearly dizzy, thighs shaking around Joe’s shoulders, skin so hot he feels feverish. He needs it so much. 

“ _Please_ ,” he gasps. He grips Joe’s hair even tighter. “Joe, please, I’m so wet. I need you to fuck me.” 

Joe looks up at him like he’d been slapped. “What did you say?” 

“I’m so wet,” he repeats, and it makes him flush, saying it out loud, but it also makes the fire in him burn a little hotter. “You make me so wet. I’ve been so wet all day, thinking about you. Please.” 

Joe looks a little stunned. His mouth is hanging open when he reaches up to Ben, grabbing his tie with one hand, pulling him off the couch and into his lap. Then he kisses him, open mouthed and filthy as Ben whimpers softly into his mouth. Joe pushes his hands up his skirt again, digging his nails into his thighs when he pulls back to look at Ben again. He must look like a mess, smudged makeup and dark eyes and flushed skin, but Joe looks at him for a long time, lingering on his mouth. He lifts his eyes after a long moment, wets his lips slowly. “I think I’m in love with you,” he says. 

Ben kisses him again. He kisses him just as frantic and needy and messy. He kisses him until Joe makes a high, impatient noise in the back of his throat; until Joe grips his thighs tighter as he rolls them over, pinning Ben to the carpet beneath him. He fits himself properly between his legs, starts to grind against him as Ben quickly wraps a leg around his waist. 

The pressure isn’t nearly enough, but it’s something, and Ben groans so loudly it’s a obscene. He tilts his head back, wig splayed across the carpet around him, a halo of pale blonde hair. Joe takes that as an opportunity to kiss down the front of his throat, leaving dark, angry bruises on his skin as he grinds against him slowly. Ben grips his hair again, digging his heel into his back with an impatient rasp of a sound. “Please,” he breathes. 

“Shit,” Joe mutters, and then he’s pulling himself up, standing, rushing across the room to make sure the lock’s been turned on the door before he hurries to the pile of clothing Ben had worn that morning. Ben misses the warmth of his body immediately, and the pressure against his cock even more. He watches the line of Joe’s shoulders move beneath the tight fabric of his shirt before finally peeling his tights off. He hikes his skirt up even further, slides his hand beneath it, gasps softly as his eyes flutter shut and he finally gets a hand around his cock. It’s a relief, almost, the sort that sends sparks of electricity surging through him. He strokes himself slowly, stilling when Joe fits himself between his legs again, a hand on his thigh. 

He looks a bit wild eyed, his stare fixated somewhere under Ben’s skirt. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Ben slowly lifts one of his legs, bending his knee. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Joe echoes. “I can’t believe you let me have sex with you.” 

It startles a laugh out of Ben, if a little strained. “You’re going to lose your chance if you don’t hurry up and get on with it, mate.” 

Joe thumbs open the bottle of lube he’d nicked from Ben’s bag. “Be a good girl and be patient,” he says. It knocks the wind right out of Ben, and his breathing is strained as Joe nudges his legs apart farther and adds, “I gotta get you nice and wet for me first.” 

“Fuck,” Ben breathes. He lifts one of his feet onto the couch behind Joe, tilting his head back against the carpet again. 

“Good girl,” Joe murmurs, and Ben’s blood is hot as it runs through him. Joe leans down to kiss his hip through the fabric of his skirt as he slowly pushes his first finger into him. It’s followed by the second, and the third, as Joe takes his time working him open, fucking him slowly with his fingers. He mouths at Ben’s hip, his stomach, his waistband, breathing into his skin and his clothing about how beautiful he is, about how good he is for him. He fingers him open until Ben’s a panting mess, eyes closed, hands pressed into the carpet above his head. “Good girl,” he murmurs again. He eases his fingers out slowly, and it takes an actual, concerted effort to keep Ben from whining at the loss. He blinks his eyes open again to watch Joe shove down the waistband of his bizarre joggers, rolling on a condom, slicking up his cock. “So fucking pretty for me,” he murmurs, leaning his head to one side as he groans. “And now you’re gonna show me how well you can take my cock, right, baby girl?” 

Ben feels like it might be a rhetorical question, but he nods, anyway, jerky and quick. “Yes,” he breathes. “Please.” 

“That’s my girl,” Joe says, finally lining himself up, pushing one of Ben’s thighs up towards his chest. Ben lets himself be folded in his half as Joe murmurs, “look how fucking wet you are,” and finally starts to push inside him, a hand on his hip. 

Ben quickly tangles a hand in Joe’s hair again, gasping softly. He digs the nails of his other hand into Joe’s back, through the fabric of his weird t-shirt, and lets his eyes flutter shut again as Joe slowly pushes into him. He makes these high, shuddery noises as he tries to catch his breath, but each time Joe slides in a little further it’s punched out of him again. When he’s finally fully inside him, velour pressed flush against his skin, Ben’s panting softly, holding so tightly to Joe’s hair he’s sure he must be hurting him. He doesn’t let go, though. He holds to it tightly as Joe kisses beneath his ear and murmurs, “alright?” 

He’s alright. He’s so hard it’s making him lightheaded, but he’s alright. “M’alright.” 

“Alright,” Joe murmurs, and turns his head just enough to press his lips to Ben’s as he slowly rocks his hips back again. 

Ben groans loudly into his mouth. He has to pull away, lips swollen as he pants and Joe slowly pushes back into him. His thrusts are shallow, more of a rocking of his hips than anything else as he gives Ben time to adjust. He presses a kiss to his shoulder, through the fabric of his shirt, rocking his hips again, pulling out slowly, easing back in. “So fucking tight for me,” he mutters. 

The noise that Ben makes is needy and impatient. “C’mon,” he says. “I’m not gonna fucking break.” 

Joe huffs out a laugh, pressing a hand into the carpet as he starts to fuck him in earnest. The very first time they had done this, like six days into knowing each other, it had honestly been kind of awkward. It wasn’t bad, per se, just awkward, in that clumsy, first time sort of way. Now, it’s not awkward. Now, they’ve done this enough times that they’re actually pretty good at it, that Joe knows exactly what it takes to make Ben’s pulse quicken. He gathers his wrists in one hand, keeping them pinned to the carpet over his head as he fucks him open harder, deeper. 

He hitches one of Ben’s thighs up higher, nearly over his shoulder, keeping him bent almost in half until he catches against that spot inside him that makes him see white. He cries out, nails digging into his palms, and Joe groans into his shoulder. “You always make the prettiest sounds for me,” he mutters, fucking him harder and faster and deeper, pressing against that spot inside him over and over and over. “Always sound so pretty when I’m inside your cunt.” 

Ben makes a high, gasping sound, tensing around him. “Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is so low it’s nearly gravelly. “Say it again.” 

“I said,” Joe murmurs, “you always sound so pretty when I’m inside your cunt.” He turns to bite the side of Ben’s throat as he pushes against that spot again and Ben sees several sets of explosions behind his eyelids. “Always feel so good. So fucking tight, baby girl, wanna spend the rest of my life inside you.” 

“Fuck,” Ben rasps again. He snakes a hand between them, under his skirt, gasps loudly as he finally gets a hand around his cock. Joe fucks him relentlessly, hard and fast and rough and Ben moves the hand on his dick in time. He feels hot all over. Joe’s hands are hot against his skin. “Wanna come,” he breathes. “C’mon, make me come.” 

“You can do it,” Joe murmurs, digging his fingertips into Ben’s wrists as he fucks him harder, more frantically. “Be a good girl and come for me.” 

Ben arches his hips, thumbing over the head of his cock just as Joe bumps again against that spot inside him that makes him dizzy. He cries out loudly as he comes. 

He shakes through it, clinging to Joe, rasps, “c’mon, come inside me,” and it’s with only a few more erratic thrusts that Joe comes, too, with a gasp. He comes, and then he kisses Ben through the aftershocks, slow and languid this time. He kisses him until the world comes back in to focus, until the fire is put out and Ben’s the embers, legs shaking just slightly when Joe pulls out and drops onto the carpet next to him. His hand finds Ben’s immediately, and Ben can’t help the lazy smile that crawls across his face as he tangles their fingers together. Joe squeezes his hand, and they lapse into silence as they both catch their breath. 

“That was kind of a shit time to tell me you love me,” Ben says finally. 

Joe turns his head to look at him, still panting softly. “What? I thought it was romantic.” Ben snorts softly and Joe squeezes his hand again, grinning sheepishly. “Alright, maybe my timing could’ve been a tiny bit better. I was gonna wait but you wore me down, I couldn’t help it. It’s your fault.” 

Ben lifts Joe’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Sorry.” 

“You should be,” he says. “I was gonna try and make it really romantic. But you ruined that for both of us.” 

Ben shrugs. “This might be a better time if you wanted to try again.” 

Joe looks at him again. “Yeah?” 

Ben smiles. He feels warm and pleasantly shaky and sated like he hasn’t in a long time. “Yeah.” 

He kisses his hand again, and Joe untangles their fingers in favour of running a thumb over Ben’s lower lip. “I’m in love with you.” 

“I love you too,” Ben says against his hand, and the sound that Joe makes is a loud, relieved groan. 

“Oh, thank God,” he says, holding his free hand to his chest. “I was really worried I’d just made things super awkward.” 

“I think we‘re passed that now,” Ben says, tugging at his skirt. Joe watches him do it before he rolls onto his side, draping an arm over his waist, kissing his shoulder. 

“Do you get to keep the skirt?”

“I doubt it,” Ben says. “But we could just take it.” 

“Yes, please,” he says, sliding his hand further down Ben’s waist to tug at the waistband. “I think we could have a lot of fun with this thing.” 

“Shut up,” Ben says, fond. He kisses him again anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> so what if I had to sneak a little romance in the end there, sue me
> 
> anyway don’t forget to come find me on [tumblr](http://sweetheaert.tumblr.com)!!!


End file.
